


Not Your Typical Wingman

by likebrightness



Category: Battlestar Galactica
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-07-14
Updated: 2010-07-14
Packaged: 2017-10-13 06:47:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/134199
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/likebrightness/pseuds/likebrightness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Figured you needed a wingman to help you figure out that you did <i>not</i> want to frak that slut"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Not Your Typical Wingman

**Author's Note:**

> Written for [](http://community.livejournal.com/bsg_pornbattle/profile)[**bsg_pornbattle**](http://community.livejournal.com/bsg_pornbattle/). Prompts: Kara/Lee: _Bite me, blue jeans, bubble gum, cold beer and warm mouth, dancing, hips, jealousy, lipstick, pickup truck, slut_

  
  
  
  
**Entry tags:**   
|   
[challenge:bsg_pornbattle](http://likebrightness.livejournal.com/tag/challenge%3Absg_pornbattle), [character:kara thrace](http://likebrightness.livejournal.com/tag/character%3Akara%20thrace), [character:lee adama](http://likebrightness.livejournal.com/tag/character%3Alee%20adama), [character:zak adama](http://likebrightness.livejournal.com/tag/character%3Azak%20adama), [fic:bsg](http://likebrightness.livejournal.com/tag/fic%3Absg), [pairing:kara/lee](http://likebrightness.livejournal.com/tag/pairing%3Akara%2Flee), [rating:r](http://likebrightness.livejournal.com/tag/rating%3Ar)  
  
---|---  
  
_**FIC: Not Your Typical Wingman (BSG, Kara/Lee, Zak, R)**_  
 **Title:** Not Your Typical Wingman  
 **Author:** [](http://olaf47.livejournal.com/profile)[**olaf47**](http://olaf47.livejournal.com/)  
 **Fandom:** Battlestar Galactica  
 **Characters/Pairing:** Kara/Lee, set during Kara/Zak  
 **Rating:** R  
 **Spoilers:** None.  
 **Summary:** “Figured you needed a wingman to help you figure out that you did _not_ want to frak that slut"  
 **Word count:** 1,458  
 **Disclaimer:** The characters are not mine. The words are.  


Kara’s popping her gum and it’s got to be one of the single most annoying things Lee has ever heard.

It would be so bad, except it’s the last straw. She let his brother do ten shots in as many minutes and when he passed out, she just put him in a cab home.

Lee had tried to convince Zak not to do the shots, but Kara cackled and egged him on. And there’s no way his brother would be alone in a cab except she put him there while Lee was in the bathroom.

“Don’t worry, Leland,” she’d said. “He can’t get mugged; I took his wallet.”

This does _not_ make him feel better, but he knows Zak will punch him in the face if he finds out that Lee made a scene about Zak not being about to take care of himself. Zak has some warped sense of what it means to be a man, which involves never asking for help (and which Lee blames solely on their father).

So Lee stays at the bar instead, drinks and plays triad and would be having an okay night except Kara keeps flirting with _everyone_ and she _won’t stop popping her gum_ and he kind of wants to hit her.

Wants to hit himself, too, the way his traitorous eyes won’t stop straying to the curve of Kara’s breast, just visible in the V of her shirt.

He’s not drunk, doesn’t need to be, really, to stare at Kara’s tits. His brother’s usually a good enough deterrent, but Zak was an idiot tonight, got too drunk and left his girlfriend drinking. Now Starbuck’s accepting drinks from every man in the bar and she keeps touching their arms when she says thank you.

Lee thinks of buying her a drink, doesn’t.

He buys himself one instead, sips at it and lets the blonde who finds him flirt and giggle. He thinks about taking her home, leaving Kara, or just taking her outside behind the bar, and leaving Kara confused as hell that he’s not the prude she always says he is.

The blonde—Sasha, he thinks her name is—has lips that are all wrong. Bright red, for one, and too thin for his tastes. She laughs and it’s tinny and light, not challenging and cocksure (not that he’s comparing her to anyone). But she’s blonde, and curvy enough, and so when she asks him to dance, he gives her a nod and leads the way to the dance floor, her hand in his.

It’s getting to the end of the night, and the music is the equivalent of a frak me playlist: slow, with a heavy beat, songs long and melting into each other so bodies can do the same.

Lee closes his eyes and presses his forehead into the blonde’s, lets his hands wrap around her, clasped at the base of her back. She’s writhing in his arms, really, and he thinks she guesses it’s sexy. (It isn’t.) But he lets her, tries to move with her. It’s all he’s going to get tonight and so it’s enough.

Except then she abruptly moves out of his arms. He opens his eyes to find Kara sliding in between them, chest against his as her arms go over his shoulders. She holds a beer in one hand, dangles it behind his back.

“Excuse me!” the blonde screeches.

“Sorry, honey,” Kara says. “He’s taken.”

His pulse absolutely does not jump.

“I saw him first.”

Kara laughs, head thrown back, and it’s not tinny at all. Her eyes flash when she says, “Believe me, you really didn’t.”

With that, Kara closes her eyes and slips her hips against Lee’s. He can’t do anything but look at her; full lips (no lipstick) curved to a smile, cleavage pressed into his chest. He thinks about dancing with her, swaying, bodies together like this, and it turns him on and makes him indescribably angry at the same time. She’s not his, and he’s certainly not hers, and apparently she needs to be reminded.

He slides his thigh between hers and her eyes open, wide. Suddenly she’s halfway off the dance floor and headed for the door. He follows.

It’s dark, the streetlight in front of the bar broken, probably from a misthrown rock or beer bottle in a barfight that had moved to the street—the bar was known for them, and one of the reasons Starbuck frequented it. She’s currently headed to her pick up at almost full speed. He still catches her before she manages to get the door open.

He spins her around to face him, but she looks at the ground.

“What’s the problem, Kara? I thought you wanted to go home with me.”

“Frak off, Lee.”

“But I’m taken, right? By you?”

She sputters a little. “I didn’t say that.”

He laughs. He’s feeling dangerous (feeling like Starbuck, like Icarus, like flying too close to the sun).

“Well then, you want to tell me what the frak that was back there?”

“Figured you needed a wingman to help you figure out that you did _not_ want to frak that slut.” She grinds out the word and glares at him as she does.

“Who you calling a slut, Starbuck? You’re the one flirting with every guy in the bar.”

She punches him with her left fist, her right still holding tightly to the beer bottle. Pain springs behind his eye. He flexes his jaw and it cracks. She certainly doesn’t pull her punches. (He knows he deserved it.)

“Yeah, well, you’re the one finding the nearest blonde to frak, aren’t you?” she snaps.

That’s it; if she knows already, he doesn’t care, he’s not trying to hide it anymore. And so he pushes her back into the truck.

One hand at her hip, thumb digging into her skin just above the band of her jeans. She’s wearing flats, not heels, so she’s at the right height for him to slide his thigh between hers once more. Her eyes are wider than they were on the dance floor but she tries for angry.

“Bite me,” she snarls and takes a drink.

When he kisses her, the bottle drops to the ground, liquid pooling at their feet. The beer was cold, but he strokes his tongue against hers until it’s warm again. (It’s not a bite, exactly, though he does nip at her bottom lip.) He finds the bubble gum she was popping and laughs into her mouth.

She pulls away and spits the gum out and then she’s kissing him this time, mouth warm, body warmer. He’s making out with his brother’s girlfriend pushed against the driver’s door of her pick up truck and he’s not drunk but he can’t help himself, just presses her back harder.

He doesn’t know what he expected, but he’s pretty sure it wasn’t her kissing him. Maybe she’d punch him again (though his jaw suddenly hurts a _lot_ less), but she’d definitely at least push him away. Except she’s not, and he’s not going to argue (nor is he going to think of his brother, maybe he made it home or maybe he’s still passed out in a cab, or at the door to his apartment building).

She’s got his belt undone before he’d realized she was working on it. Apparently this is happening.

They end up with his jeans unbuttoned and unzipped and hers dangling from one foot, which digs into his ass, urging him forward. (Like he needed the encouragement, his hips already canting toward hers.)

It’s too public—the streetlight over the truck is not broken, they are well lit but it doesn’t matter because he’s inside her, frakking gods, he’s inside her. It isn’t what he thought it’d be like (not that he thought of it. Whenever his brother was not around.) It’s public and quick (and he doesn’t even feel guilty).

Someone wolf-whistles them as Lee pistons his hips into hers, but he seems to have forgotten about decency. He hopes she’s wound as tight as he is (she certainly was wet enough when he first got his fingers in her panties), because this isn’t going to last.

It doesn’t, but she is, and as he’s squeezing his eyes closed and breathing her name, she’s clenching around him and shouting to the gods.

It isn’t awkward afterward, either. He sags against her and she laughs at him, pushes him off. She grabs Kleenex from the truck before pulling her pants back up, gives him some to clean up, too. He kisses her solidly. She just laughs again and gets in the truck.

He climbs in next to her and tries not to wish they weren’t driving to his brother’s apartment.

  



End file.
